Chapter 39
My attack on Lydia was all over the news before morning. I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't. Not while the incident kept replaying through my mind like an endless movie reel caught on repeat. Alessandro had been out all night negotiating with Marco and trying to piece together what had happened between Lydia and me. Lydia had given her version of events with screaming clarity at the scene. I, however, still found it difficult to speak. I felt so ashamed… so mortified that I would stoop so low so as to actually attack her. I thought I had more faith in Alessandro and me than that. Faith enough to brush off Lydia's threats and accusations as the load of filthy dross they were. But she'd struck a nerve when she had the audacity to bring Alessandro's character into question. He'd made a lifetime commitment to me. Both of us together, forever. He'd demonstrated it time and again that he wasn't going to budge or back down on our relationship no matter how tough things got.
It was about six in the morning when I heard the slam of the front door to Alessandro's penthouse apartment. Too early to be the housekeeper, I knew it had to be Alessandro. Having given up on sleep only a couple of hours before, I had opted for a long soak in the gigantic bath. Now, the water was so cool that lukewarm would have been a welcome relief and my skin was so wrinkled that I resembled an old lady.
"Lizzie?" I heard Alessandro's tired call when he entered the master bedroom and I listened as his footsteps rounded the bed before stopping at the bathroom door. He gave a quiet knock and when I didn't answer he opened it a crack, peering in to find me huddled up in the tub, staring at the water. "Marco has decided not to press charges." Small comfort. "But Lydia will need corrective surgery. I have agreed to cover the cost."
"No," I croaked. "I'll pay for it out of my allowance. This wasn't your fault. It was mine. I did this. I should pay."
Alessandro swung the door wide and stepped into the bathroom, bringing with him the light of a golden sunrise from behind. He sat down on the edge of the tub, his thick thigh settling a mere inches from my head. He smelled like a mix of his cologne and the cigar smell that I associated with Marco Calvetti, leading me to believe that they had dealt with matters at Marco's Milan house.
"Lizzie, what happened between you two?" he asked.
I shook my head, making a point of drowning the wash cloth that floated around my legs. "I don't want to talk about it."
His fingers reached out to touch my cheek that still burned where Lydia had scratched me and I recoiled. "Lydia claimed you had gotten into an argument about me."
I closed my eyes, biting my lip against the assault of memories that still remained so fresh in my mind. The vile things she had said. The blinding rage that had bubbled up so fast that I could no sooner control it than control a runaway train. I glanced back at Alessandro, there were huge bags under his eyes and his face was still pale from the worry. How was he not furious with me? For the first time since the argument, I burst into tears.
"Oh Lizzie," Alessandro shifted his position on the edge of the bath, his hands dipping into the water when he reached down to hold me. He swore. "Dio! This water is freezing!"
Then before I knew it, he was tugging me from the bath and lifting me into his arms, not even caring that I was getting bathwater all over his expensive tux. He carried me back into the room where he sat me down on the bed and wrapped me up in a giant bath towel, hugging me as I cried into his chest.
Later that morning Alessandro's lawyer arrived with news that Lydia was happy to accept my covering the cost for her broken nose surgery. She had initially demanded a public apology in exchange for her not pressing charges but then had to concede there was evidence on my face that she had attacked me first, so she dropped that idea. Alessandro seemed relieved and organised the transfer of my funds into Lydia's account. I had no idea how much was in it but I soon found that I barely had a few dollars left once the process was complete. I was now officially poorer than I had been when I'd first arrived in Italy. Once business was settled we left for Rome later that day.
Over the next week we went through the motions of day to day life. Well as much as we could, considering the sudden media interest in us again. Reporters insisted on hounding Alessandro wherever he went, asking him questions on whether this was it for us. Were we headed for a breakup? Divorce? I chose not to leave the house, instead locking myself away and ignoring the outside world. My mother phoned worried sick when she saw the news reports and my brothers texted me their praises and admiration. Apparently one of the paparazzi had opted to stick around outside the gala that night and managed to capture the moment my fist made contact with Lydia's face. It was all over the news. The media was having a field day, public opinion divided on my worthiness to remain as Alessandro's wife even though it was no one's business but his and mine. Alessandro absorbed himself in his work, his PR team working around the clock to ease worries not just regarding the suitability of our relationship but suddenly also questions regarding my family's involvement with the Mafia. Dad had even phoned Alessandro to tell him he'd caught reporters trespassing on the farm, looking for evidence of the long since dismantled Marijuana plot my Nonno had grown during his days running the farm. Alessandro promptly organised around the clock security to be posted around my parent's place, and then issued a public statement stating that my Mafia roots did not extend to me or my immediate family, and that I was actually an active campaigner against organised crime. This was all my mess and Alessandro was the one cleaning up after me, and for that I felt more terrible than anything else that I had done over the past few days. I hardly ate. I couldn't. Not while my stomach insisted on twisting itself into painful, guilt ridden knots. Sleep escaped me most of the time and there was nothing I could find enjoyment in. Nothing that would take my mind off what I'd done.
I was sitting in the wingback chair in the master bedroom when Alessandro arrived home early on Friday. I had made an attempt at reading a book but was getting nowhere with it, so instead opted to lean my head back on the rest and close my eyes for a bit, listening to the sound of rain that tapped at the window outside. An appropriate backdrop for the melancholy that had become of my mind lately. My eyes snapped open the moment I heard the bedroom door close and I glanced up into the haggard face of my husband. His strong form hovered over me like a silent, guardian angel but unable to face him I glanced away.
"Lizzie?" he crouched down beside me. God, he looked so worried. He looked as though he had aged years. I watched his eyes rivet to the marks on my cheek as they usually did in my company. The scratches had since healed into red lines. "She really did a number on your cheek."
He couldn't resist the urge to stroke it and this time I let him do it, releasing the small sigh at his touch that I had missed so much over this past week.
"You should have seen what I did to her," I quipped though found no humour in it.
A tiny smile broke through but he squashed it quickly. "How can I fix this, Lizzie?"
I shook my head. "This is my own fault. My doing. But she called you fair game, Alessandro. You're not. You're mine and I couldn't even defend our marriage. I couldn't even defend you!"
"Lizzie," he said. "I don't need defending."
I blinked away the tears that threatened once again, forcing myself from his gaze because he was only making it worse.
"But you do..." he realised with gravity. He swallowed, his voice going raspy as if he was holding down the urge to cry himself. "It seems I've brought you here and thrown you to the wolves, haven't I?"
I remained silent and instead took to fiddling with the tassels of the blanket I had wrapped around my shoulders. I wiped a stray tear from my cheek with the back of my hand. "I lost my job, today."
"Madre di dio," he swore. "I'm sorry Lizzie. Let me talk to your boss. I'll convince him to keep you on."
But I shook my head. I was just too tired to care anymore. "It doesn't matter. They already offered my replacement the job. She accepted. I want to go home, Alessandro."
"I know you do," he said. "But please, just a little longer and this will all be over, I promise. You mean the world to me," he whispered.
I curled up into a ball and turned away.
The next morning I woke in Alessandro's arms, surprised that I had actually managed to sleep. He was already awake when I glanced up at him and he smiled though his eyes were distant. I realised I'd caught him mulling through something in his mind.
"Good morning, amore mia," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on my head. "You actually slept soundly last night."
I stifled a yawn and nodded. "That was a first."
He brushed the hair from my face and planted several kisses about my head. "Come Lizzie, I want you to pack some clothes for a couple of days. We're going to leave town for the weekend."
Normally the idea of exploring somewhere new would have excited me but instead I felt the painful jolt in my stomach. Even though I tried to smile at his offer, I was sure it turned out more a cringe.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Away." Was all he said before getting out of bed and yanking on his pj bottoms that lived on the floor while he slept.
I reluctantly did as I was told and packed some summer clothes. I dressed in a sundress and opted for a wide, floppy hat that I could use to hide my face if the paparazzi still insisted on stationing themselves outside our house. Phil drove us to the airport in the Bentley, its tinted windows proving to be a godsend against any potential prying eyes. As we pulled up to the VIP terminal I had secretly hoped we were leaving the country but found these hopes dashed when I spotted the helicopter. Alessandro had spent most of the drive on the phone, rambling to his lawyer about some sort of deed or settlement - my Italian was still a little sketchy in that department - and by the time we reached the terminal, the lawyer's assistant was waiting for us, ready and eager with a manila folder stuffed full with paperwork meant for Alessandro. It was this he made himself comfortable with as we settled into the helicopter's leather seats. Personally, I found watching the scenery a tad more interesting. Stunning Italian landscape rushed by beneath us - land filled with so much history that its story could be read virtually everywhere I looked. Then, as we panned west to fly away from the yellow, morning sun, I watched as the land gave way to beach and then ocean. I threw Alessandro a questioning glance but he was still too engrossed in power-reading through the many layers of legal jargon his latest contract offered. We passed over pristine ocean for what felt like days, though in reality, could have only been an hour or so. At some point Alessandro shook me awake and my eyes snapped open, I hadn't even realised I'd fallen asleep. He signalled me to the window next to my head where an island had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Tear drop shaped, it was surrounded by calm, turquoise water. White, sandy beaches and rocky sandstone met with lush, green vegetation and a large old structure that I realised was a Tuscan style villa occupied pride of place at the highest point.
"That island couldn't be more Mediterranean if it tried!" I said over the loud thwup of the helicopter engine.
Alessandro simply smirked, leaving me unsure as to whether he'd heard me or not until I noticed we were descending quickly. I shot him a glance, the question in my eyes obvious. We're heading there?
He replied with a nod and I sucked in a breath, the realisation hitting me like a kick to the head. This wasn't just any island, this was his island. My husband owned an island in the Mediterranean! We landed on a helipad a mere stone's throw away from the old villa that, upon closer inspection, I realised was in the process of being restored. So this was just another one of his projects. Even so, the house was huge and in incredible condition given its apparent isolation. We walked hand in hand up a stone path that had been chiselled out of the very island, and as the helicopter pilot delivered our luggage to the front door, we spent a moment admiring the 360 degree view of perfectly calm seas that stretched out as far as the horizon. A pleasant breeze sliced through the heat of the afternoon, bringing with it the scent of salt and ocean. For the first time since I could remember, we were truly alone.
"I hope he has plans to return for us," I said, indicating to Alessandro's helicopter that had since taken off and was in the process of vanishing over the horizon.
Alessandro wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. I breathed a sigh. The pressure of the past week lifted in an instant. This place was magical.
"Would you like to see the house?"
I reluctantly tore my eyes from the view to meet his gaze above my head. I could sense the island was having the same effect on him too. He led me up a set of sandstone steps to a front door that had no lock.
"I have no staff stationed here, so I'm sorry it's just you and me roughing it for the weekend," explained Alessandro as we stepped into a spacious entry foyer that echoed when we spoke.
"I wouldn't exactly call it 'roughing it'," I rasped, gaping about the space that was simpler than what Alessandro normally preferred but still so beautiful that it made my heart leap. Everywhere we glanced there was a window that faced out over the impeccable view.
Alessandro presented me with a grand tour of this beautiful villa that consisted of a huge kitchen, dining, and living space on the bottom floor, and then several rooms, an office and even a library up stairs. Some rooms were still in the process of restoration as evidenced by the workmen tools and paint tins that lay scattered about. I could only guess that Alessandro flew them in during the week to work. Solar panels had been installed outside the kitchen, giving the house power and brand new pumps brought water up from an old well. We loaded the fridge and pantry with supplies we had brought along with us and then packed away our clothes in the master bedroom that had been freshly painted in the infamous Tuscan-yellow.
"Do you like it here?" asked Alessandro once we had fallen back onto the queen bed. It had been positioned so that we could look out over the ocean through open French doors.
I felt the smile form on my lips - the first true smile in days. "I love it here, Alessandro. Thank you for bringing me."
He returned the smile. "The pleasure is all mine." He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the paperwork that he'd spent the entire flight pouring through. "Because it's yours."
